


you've gotten into my bloodstream

by butterflycrown



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-06
Updated: 2012-10-06
Packaged: 2017-11-15 19:02:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/530629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflycrown/pseuds/butterflycrown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Stiles' heartbeat is like a lullaby to him, or an aphrodisiac; it depends on the situation.</i> Stiles wants Derek to give him the bite.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you've gotten into my bloodstream

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the song "Bloodstream" by Stateless.

Stiles' heartbeat is like a lullaby to him, or an aphrodisiac; it depends on the situation. Right now it is a lullaby, Derek resting his head on his mate's chest and just listening. He's good at that, at least. Stiles' heart slows in time with his own, drifting into sleep, and Derek thinks that this is the sound of home because it means that Stiles is okay.

\----------

They wake up softly, Stiles' eyes golden in the morning light, and the smell of paint filters through the house. Derek probably isn't supposed to like that scent; he does anyway. It smells like pack.

"Jackson's here already?" Stiles mumbles against the nape of Derek's neck, breath ghosting across his tattoo, and Derek nods as slowly as possible. He doesn't want to move too much, doesn't want to lose the heat that's trapped under their blankets and between their bodies. Everything seems gentler in the morning and that includes Derek's wolf, still sleeping within him.

But mornings with Stiles is like Russian roulette, and Derek never knows when he's going to be bright and when he's going to be muted. Today he wants things to be slow, so of course Stiles starts nipping at Derek's neck, wriggling his legs and letting his hand drift down Derek's chest. Derek's wolf jerks awake and he lets his eyes flash burgundy, bloody, just to show off. Stiles smirks.

"You don't mind that Jackson's downstairs?" he asks; Derek is already lapping at his neck, straddling Stiles' slender hips. He growls, shakes his head.

"Maybe," whispers Stiles, "you get off on it."

Derek growls again, aggressive this time; he knows Jackson can hear him and maybe Stiles is right (Stiles usually is).

Their lips slide together messily but they've grown not to care about mess, not when Derek's teeth are pressing against Stiles' tongue like a promise and Stiles' hands are tugging at his hair. And then at his nipples, at his hips, _everywhere_.

"Derek," Stiles moans against his mouth, maybe the sound Derek loves more than any other; he hopes Jackson can hear that, too, hopes it makes his wolf howl the way it does Derek's. But Stiles pulls away, turns his face into the pillow and Derek doesn't know what he's doing until he does.

"Don't," he snarls quickly, and Stiles looks back at him, eyes wide and pleading.

"Please," Stiles begs, face pale even against the white sheets. "I need it, I need you to."

All Derek can see is a curve of delicate skin, Stiles' neck bared to him completely, and his wolf pants, fangs almost descending because he needs it too, they both do, but--

He tears his eyes away.

"I won't."

It's as much to himself as it is to Stiles, this boy stretched out on his bed and offering everything. It's even more to his wolf, who whimpers with desire, and Derek climbs off of Stiles, nails ripping through their sheets like flesh.

"Why not?"

Derek listens to that familiar heartbeat, the heartbeat of his _mate_ , as it shifts from arousal into something different. He doesn't know what to say.

\----------

Jackson is painting the porch when Derek comes outside, his final coat almost done. Derek sniffs the air with satisfaction and looks around, seeing the railings as they used to be, solid and supporting the weight of his siblings as they slid down it.

"You've done a good job," he says; Jackson fights back a smile, ducking his head. He studies his paint-speckled toes, still splattered with an ocean blue from the day before. "And Jackson?"

Jackson looks up, surprised and knowing that Derek can smell the fear on him increase with every second that the Alpha looks at him.

"I just want him to be safe."

There's no question who he's talking about, or why he's saying it. It's because he needs to, because he knows Jackson heard, and maybe Stiles wouldn't understand but that doesn't make it any less true.

"I know."

Derek leaves, then, and Jackson can hear him press kisses to Stiles' hair in the kitchen, hears the low rumble of his apology.

(He hears Stiles' heartbeat, too, and if it stutters in his chest, well-- Jackson will mention it at every possible opportunity.)


End file.
